


Fallen From Grace

by VisionaryGalaxy



Series: A Thousand Futures of Me and You [69]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angel Stephen Strange, Demon Tony Stark, Don't copy to another site, Falling In Love???, Fluff and Angst, Inspired by Novel, M/M, Religious Conflict, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-07 20:04:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17967134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisionaryGalaxy/pseuds/VisionaryGalaxy
Summary: If this creature could make me fall, could corrupt my soul, could I not do the opposite for him? Could I not raise him from the pits of damnation?





	Fallen From Grace

**Author's Note:**

> I am not religious and this is not accurate. Its just for fun so if easily offended please try a different story.

   Stephen moved slowly through the trees, eyes narrowed wearily in the dim glow of the moon. This was the fae’s forest and although he knew the mischievous creatures wouldn’t dare approach him, he also knew they were just as likely to pull their tricks from afar. Besides his unease, Stephen had to admit it was all so alluring.

   He hadn’t stepped foot onto the earth in two weeks time, but up in the clouds it had seemed like five months, and he missed the feeling of cool air kissing his skin, the water dripping from the glistening wet leaves onto his clothes, the feeling of dirt crumbling beneath his fingers. It was tempting, too tempting, to simply remain here, to settle here in the fae’s forest and pretend that all his responsibilities were far away.

   Alas, he couldn’t do such a thing. After all, he was here for an entirely different kind of temptation, one as sweet as it was wicked. Stephen stepped out into the small clearing, noting the tiny foothill at the far end, signaling the entrance into the underground. He would give it a wide berth he decided, he might be a guest, but better not to aggravate the locals. This was supposed to be under the radar and Stephen knew such a disturbance would surely not go unnoticed by his Father.

   Quietly, Stephen began his vigil, eyes forward, back straight as he waited. The anticipation the best part, that stirring in his stomach warning him he was making a mistake, that he should flee, or use the sword on his hip to cut down whom he was waiting for the moment he arrived.

   “Hello, my reprobi.”

   A full bodied shudder went through Stephen at the sound of the deep, amused voice behind him. His presence looming in his mind like a great big shadow, with its promise of doom and hellfire, an impressing feat and completely for show.

   “Hmm, you are the only fallen, I see here,” he answered in kind, not bothering to turn around.

   “For now,” he offered back, ever confident as he strode around to face him.

   Stephen had to suppress a smile as the demon offered his own smirk, his usually warm brown eyes, so deceptive, flashing red. It couldn’t be helped, just as Stephen knew his own were offering their own softer, bluish glow, a natural reaction in the presence of the enemy.

   He watched as Tony’s eyes moved over him in a slow drag, not at all hiding the desire burning within them, “well you look fine. No big punishment from good old Dad?”

   Stephen grimaced, could almost swear he saw a flash of concern in those fiery eyes, “He’s been otherwise occupied.”

   “He would be.”

   They both sobered at that. This meeting, unlike so many of their others was actually important. He had known this particular demon for several centuries now, had seen him once a week in a mutually agreed neutral zone. It was unorthodox but there were perks to being close with the enemy, especially when it came to balancing good and evil on earth. But tonight, tonight would be their last meeting on earth…because it had begun, the end of days. One would win and one would lose and if Stephen was honest, he wasn’t ready to see him go.

   It had been many years and after so long…well it was hardly angelic to consider.

   Tony’s smirk grew wider, “ah now come on my lovely reprobi. Just because it is our last time together, doesn’t mean it should be sad.”

   Stephen offered his own wry smile, “we’ve known each other a long time, I’d think you’d know better then to try your silver tongue again.”

   He stepped closer and Stephen could see just beyond his human form, the charming appearance dulled down for human senses, the simmering charisma and energy pulling in everyone around him, a useful trait in a demon, “oh darling, I’ve never had to use it with you.”

   Stephen narrowed his eyes, but when he held out his hand, black claws glinting then fading from the human fingers, he didn’t hesitate to place his hand in his. Just like all the times before, a spark of energy travelled through them both, the innate spark of friction caused between two completely and horribly incompatible souls. He didn’t let go, however, revelling in the feeling and smiling at Tony’s own half lidded eyes, as he led him over to a bright spot under the moon, in the meadow and guided him to sit down.

   He let out a heavy breath at the feel of the wet blades of grass brushing his bare skin of his ankle, the way the toes of his bare feet dug into the muddy dirt. He let his eyes fall closed at the singing energy of the earth moving through his veins.

   There was an amused little laugh from his side and when Stephen peeled back his lids it was to see Tony leaning close, eyes locked onto his expression with fascination, “how long was it up there, for you?”

   “Months,” Stephen murmured.

   “Ah,” he nodded. “That explains it.”

   Stephen ignored him, inhaling deeply into his lungs despite the breath being completely unnecessary. He felt the cool air slide into his lungs, settling in his mouth and nose on his next exhale. It was beautiful really, these simple actions that let the ordinary creatures who walked this earth live, so insignificant to them.

   He gasped at the feeling of Tony’s palm suddenly resting against his throat, fingers splayed just below his chin. He looked into the demon’s bright eyes and felt as though he had just been nailed to the earth, unable to speak or move.

   All the centuries and centuries they had known each other, and Stephen could count on one hand the number of times they had touched. Their hands touched on three occasions, Tony had caught him once when he stumbled (and never let him live down that one ungraceful moment), and finally, when he last saw him, he had held onto his shoulder for a long, long moment.

   Each time had been utterly captivating. He could admit it now, knowing that this would last time he looked into the demon’s face. From the moment they had unintentionally stumbled upon each other, Stephen had been under his spell. He was demon, by all rights his enemy, and he shouldn’t have thought twice about cutting him down and sending his twisted soul back where it belonged…but he hadn’t. Inexplicably, he had seen something in him, something bright and unassuming, something almost… _good_. It had been just enough to stay his hand ever since.

   As the years passed it had evolved into a feeling he dare not name. He was an angel and he believed whole-heartedly there was goodness to be found in all things and just as he knew that…he was also aware that the opposite was true of the purest beings. Here, sitting next to him was his temptation and Stephen should have moved on long ago but alas here he was again, while the legions of heaven were being prepared for battle.

   His thumb began a steady circular stroke against his pale skin and Stephen’s eyes fluttered closed at the feeling sparking through him, wilfully ignoring the warning ringing in his head. Tony, for his part, had his gaze locked on his own hand, that burning in them making Stephen feel dizzy with the intensity.

   “I missed you reprobi,” Stephen was surprised by the softness in his tone, the way his eyes flickered up at him to see his reaction.

   Inhaling deeply Stephen smiled at the subtle tightening of Tony’s hand, “why?”

   He was genuinely curious, though he had a sneaking suspicion and he couldn’t for the life of him decide how he felt about it. Tony’s mouth twisted back into that infamous smirk, his expressive eyes glinting with barely concealed joy.

   “Come now angel,” he all but purred. “This is the last time we’ll ever see each other. Some honesty wouldn’t go amiss, your kind are all about that. You know why.”

   He did, so instead of pursuing that line of thought he shook his head slightly, careful not to dislodge his hand, “why did you ask to meet?”

   The question had been killing him since he retreated in preparation for the battle. He had gotten the message yesterday via some rather creative means and hadn’t been able to decode a rhyme or reason for it. Missing him was hardly worth the risk of they were caught, so close to the upcoming battle.

   “Oh, lovely, lovely, angel,” Tony sighed. “So damn innocent.”

   He flinched at the curse and narrowed his eyes, knew that his blue glow had grown harsher in response. He was far from such a thing, his sword having killed millions of souls, his age leaving him well-aware of what demons craved.

   He had suspected from the start that Tony had sought to play a game, see if he could corrupt an angel of his own, the notoriety that would bring him in Hell, would have been spectacular. His suspicion was confirmed when he was given the nickname reprobi, fallen, as in, his fallen angel. Stephen had been amused and offended all in one, a common emotion around this particular demon. Yet, it never made him stop meeting the alluring creature, part of him curious as to whether he could manage it at all.

   “Shhh,” he tried to sooth, smiling all the while. “Didn’t mean to offend you.”

   Despite himself Stephen had relaxed.

   “There we go,” he murmured.

   Stephen glanced up at the sky for a moment when he heard the distant crack of thunder, his stomach tightening for a moment, wondering if he had gone too far suddenly, been caught at this long game.

   “Look at me,” he did, and Tony nodded encouragingly. “Its alright. Our masters can’t see us here, the fae folk were so kind as to give us temporary shelter from their all-seeing eyes.”

   “What do you want?” Stephen found himself whispering, ever blunt.

   Tony’s thumb, which had been stroking the entire time finally paused and his fingers shifted so that Stephen’s head tilted forward, toward him. The burning red that ringed his eyes slowly faded, even as Stephen felt pinpricks around his neck, signaling the growth of Tony’s claw like nails. He realized a moment later why, he was working to actually supress the hellfire that usually marked the eyes of his kind so Stephen could see the sincerity in his them.

   He seemed…sad? Afraid? Lonely? These were just some of the possibilities and it took his breath away. All this time and he had never seen such human emotions in this demon, such a clear and obvious longing that so reflected his own soul. He was overcome for a moment with the realization that they weren’t truly so different.

   For the first time a thought crossed his mind, a stray line he never would have considered before, _if this creature could make me fall, could corrupt my soul, could I not do the opposite for him? Could I not raise him from the pits of damnation?_

   Demons were irredeemable, their souls so blackened and twisted that they could never be undone and brought back to some form of humanity. Yet, all these years, knowing all the terrible things this demon in front of him had down, he realized some part of him had never truly believed that. _Blasphemy_ , his mind supplied.

   Tony’s fingers tightened, just enough that Stephen could feel the strain on his muscles, but it wasn’t even hard enough to restrain a human’s breathing cycle, let alone him, “I was hoping for a parting gift…something I’ve craved since I set eyes are you lovely winged creature,” he whispered, something like desperation seeping into the corners of his eyes.

   Stephen didn’t even think when he answered just as quietly, “yes.”

   He was tugged forward by the hand around his throat quickly and then lips were on his, a spark like an electric shock hitting them both hard and making them gasp in pain. Tony didn’t release him though, and Stephen didn’t want him to, not even when his tongue flicked into his mouth, longer then it should be, not when there was thunder roaring in the sky with deafening cracks and lightening bolts flashed like a horrific lightshow of anger. He didn’t try to pull from the demon’s grasp, inhaling his smoky, metallic scent, when the ground seemed to tremble beneath them, and Tony’s other hand came up to tangle in his hair. He didn’t protest or reach for the sword on his hip as he was pushed back on to the damp grass and the demon straddled him, the skin beneath his fingers feeling suddenly scaly, even as there was a screeching in his ears that his mind subconsciously knew was the fae screaming in terror. He didn’t dare detached from the bruising force of the lips, instead arching against Tony’s body when he felt the hand that had been tangled in his hair, sliding through the feathers of his wings that had stretched imposingly. He pushed his throat into the hand around his neck with a nearly desperate whine, as there was a cracking noise, even louder then the roaring of the thunder, signalling the earth tearing itself apart not twenty feet from where they lay.

   Stephen’s eyes opened to stare into Tony’s, blazing like a wildfire and could see his own, shinning a pure white light, reflected in their depths. Tony pulled back just far enough to release his lips and the hand not gripping his throat hard, ran a gentle line over his cheek where tears glistened, matching those streaming down Tony’s and suddenly Stephen couldn’t figure out who corrupted who, even as chaos reigned down around them, and Tony’s eyes held the same confusion.

   But that wasn’t what was most important. It was the other thing in those depths, the emotion that set Stephen’s unnecessary heart, beating a mad rhythm. It was love. A horrible, forbidden, beautiful, desperate love that should not exist.

_Oh._

   The chaos began to filter in around him and Tony seemed to realize the same, “shit.” He whispered.

   “Language,” Stephen murmured, slapping his shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired loosely from the absolutely marvelous and hilarious novel Good Omens by Neil Gaimen and Terry Pratchett. The basis of the book is that a demon (Crowley) and an angel (Aziraphale) who are good friends have no interest in seeing the upcoming end of days and seek to stall it for a few thousand more years, which goes to shit when they misplace the anti-Christ. I highly suggest everyone's reads it and if its not your style of novel there is a Tv adaptation coming out soon with David Tenant as Crowley, Michael Sheen as Aziraphale, and Benedict Cumberbatch as Satan! Just thought I'd share ;)  
> P.S. This story is nothing like it but I couldn't get this idea out of my head after reading the book.


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